Can't You See Me?
by healingwater
Summary: After Sam and John's argument turns on him, Dean finds himself wondering if his own family will ever see him for who he really is or if they'll only see his mask. Read and Review please! Final chapter is up!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural, just playing with the boys for my own amusement. Lyrics belong to Metallica's song "The Unforgiven".

I realize that this story can either be a multi-chapter fic or a stand-alone. Y'all let me know what you want to see. And please, while it makes me all warm and fuzzy when y'all favorite the story, reviews would be awesome. I know y'all have important stuff to say, so hit that review button please! Enjoy!

_**/Song Lyrics/**_

_Thinking_

"Talking"

Dean flopped back on his bed with an irritated sigh. He just couldn't take any more of his father and brother bickering. The two men had screamed insults at each other for at least three hours, and when they ran out of things to say to each other, they had turned on him. He was tired of playing peacekeeper and tired of being the scapegoat. He jammed on his headphones and turned the music up as loud as he could stand it. The dark sounds of Metallica flooded from the earpieces, slowly easing his agitation.

Dean found himself tangled in the truth of the lyrics as his eyelids fluttered shut. /_**New blood joins this earth/ And quickly he's subdued/ Through constant pain, disgrace/ The young boy learns their rules/ **__So true_ he thought to himself with a snort. It was like he had been born simply to take care of his father and Sam. He remembered being strong-willed and rebellious until he'd had a baby thrust in his arms. Dean quickly took on the role of his deceased mother. He had learned John's rules swiftly; he didn't like pain enough to buck his father. And Sam learned how to manipulate situations to suit his needs, not that Dean would ever admit that aloud.

_**/With time the child draws in/ This whipping boy done wrong/ Deprived of all his thoughts/ The young man struggles on and on/**_ He had put up thick shields to lock them out and his tortured soul in. The elder Winchester sibling had learned that a mask of humor and smartass remarks kept everyone at arm's length, with perhaps the exception of Bobby Singer. He remained safe behind his mask and steep walls. Dean sighed softly as he thought about all his hopes, ideas, and dreams that he had long ago locked away in an attempt to protect himself and Sam. It allowed him to be the perfect soldier that his father desired. Sam tormented him frequently about it, calling Dean selfish and unthinking. _Yep, that's me. A crude, unfeeling, unthinking moron._

_**/They dedicate their lives/ To running all of his/ He tries to please them all/ This bitter man he is/ **_He had quit school so that he could hunt full-time with John, allowing Sam the freedom to attend school and some extra-curricular activities. He let his father and Sam both think that he was stupid; it was sad that they would never get even a single glimpse of the intelligence hidden behind Dean's empty green eyes. _Not that they notice that either._ He had been taught by the best to keep a blank face and to never let his emotions betray him. Sam proclaimed that he had the ability to read his brother, and occasionally he was correct, but more often than not he was wrong. Neither John nor Sam knew of Dean's pain, bitterness, betrayal, or resentments. The loneliness was almost intolerable sometimes. _Bobby knows, but he keeps his mouth shut._ He was grateful for Bobby's reassuring hand on his shoulder and the endearing nickname of "idjit". That was much better than what John often called him.

And he had felt so betrayed when Sam had left him to go to college and to escape John's desire for revenge. _But I'm the one who's selfish_. No one had thought to let him even consider going away to school. In fact, his father had downright laughed in his face and Sam's comments about his terrible grades had pierced like bullets. He had wanted to scream at them and show them the proof that he wasn't stupid. He knew Bobby had kept the results of his GED test and that he had scored near perfect. _Like it's so easy to work two jobs, take care of a teenager and a drunken father, all while maintaining a household and hunting!_ Of course, if he had given in to his urges and shown them he had half a brain in his pretty little head, it would give away his cover and weaken his walls. So he smiled and made fun of himself right along with them, watching Bobby's anger rise from the corner of his eye. He spent quite a lot of time drowning in their laughter at his expense. /_**Never free/ Never me/ So I dub thee unforgiven/**_

_God, it hurts so much! Why can't they see who I really am and how much they're killing me?_ He had made so many sacrifices for them and their vendetta. He had gone hungry many nights so that Sam wouldn't have to. He'd stitched John back together before tending to his own wounds while his father watched and got drunk. He did the laundry, the maintenance of their weapons, cleaned, cooked, cared for John and Sam when they were sick. But who had done those things for him? _No one._ Who had comforted when he was sick or hurt or had nightmares? _No one._ Who had held him and let him grieve for his mother? _No one._ Had John or Sam ever thanked him for his kindness, or his dedication, or his sacrifices? _No_. Had either of them cared enough to see who Dean Winchester really was? _No_. Did his existence even matter? _No_. _**/He's battled constantly/ This fight he cannot win/ A tired man they say no longer cares/**_ Tears slipped from beneath closed eyelids to ghost down his cheeks. He felt so broken inside and was so wrapped into his own pain that he failed to notice when the bedroom door creaked open.

Sam slipped in to check on his brother, guilt eating at him for verbally attacking Dean when he was really angry with their father. He stopped short, slightly taken aback at the state of his brother. _Whoa. I've never seen him cry_. Sam sat quietly on his own bed and took the time to actually look at his brother and felt as if he was seeing him for the first time. Sam stared at the tears, noticing how pronounced Dean's cheekbones were. His clothes hung loosely on his body. _He was not that skinny before I went to Stanford, I'm sure._ He noticed that his brother's usually golden skin had paled, making the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose stand out, and that there were dark smudges beneath his closed eyes. Dean's lips were drawn into a frown and Sam cursed himself for not noticing before. He had been so wrapped up in finding their father and now arguing with said man that he had never once given thought to his brother's physical or mental health. He moved slowly from his bed to Dean's, gently smoothing away tears. "Dean, what have we done to you?" Sam whispered to the quiet room. He decided then and there that he was going to bring his brother's needs to John's attention and he'd be damned if either of them ignored the most important link in their family ever again.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural, just playing with the boys for my own amusement. Lyrics belong to Metallica's song "The Unforgiven". Sorry this is short, but work has been hell!

Sam stared at his brother for a few more minutes, surprised that Dean hadn't shoved him off the bed yet. _He's really out of it._ The younger sibling was well aware that his brother did not show his feelings to any one, especially ones that their father would view as weak. So for Dean to allow Sam to see tears, he had to actually be deep in sleep and completely unaware of his actions. But Sam wasn't buying that either; he'd known his brother to soldier on through excruciating pain and never allow the discomfort or tears to slip from his tight reign of control. He decided to simply confront him and find out what was going on. _This is so not the time for one of your stupid pranks, Dean._ With a quick jab to his shoulder, he called Dean's name. "C'mon, Dean, get the hell up!"

Green eyes fluttered open and glared into Sam's own hazel eyes. "What, Sam? Still feel the need to bitch at me?" he snapped. Sam was a little taken back by the harshness of his tone. _Well, it was my idea to provoke him._ He shook his head. "I just wanted to say I was sorry," he murmured. Dean blinked. "Why? Dad tell you to apologize?" he joked, hoping to distract his younger brother. Dean had realized that Sam was in the room when he felt the bed shift under his brother's weight. He had let Sam see his pain, his vulnerability, deciding to take the chance that his brother would finally **see** him_. Yeah, right. Fat chance of that happening._ He quickly determined that he had been foolish to trust Sam and he was desperate to gloss it over. Dean could see that Sam grasped the fact that something was bothering him, but that he couldn't, or wouldn't, change things.

Sam continued to stare, trying to read his brother's face and eyes. He knew that he had been given a rare glimpse into Dean's soul, but the vast meaning had slipped through his clutches. Dean had entrusted him with something, but of what Sam just couldn't comprehend. He was positive that he had caused his sibling some sort of pain and only a few short moments ago he had been preoccupied with his physical decline. Though now, with Dean's vacant green eyes glowering at him, Sam pushed aside his concern and allowed his annoyance to cloud his thoughts. "I'm not a little kid, Dean. Dad doesn't have to make me do anything. You're the one in the dark, sulking," he replied snidely.

Dean heaved a sigh. _And now we're fighting. Guess the moment did pass uneventfully._ He looked at Sam's face, agitation written all over it, the concern wiped away and forgotten. "I'm not sulking, Sammy. I just wanted to relax a little," he offered in an attempt to placate Sam. He had upset his brother and that was something his father would punish him for. He acknowledged in defeat how pathetic his attempt at opening up to his brother had been. Sam hadn't even cared enough to give him a second glance. He hurriedly rebuilt his walls, panic and fear crushing his chest. _Gotta protect Sam, always, even from me._

Dean had withdrawn into himself, leaving Sam to ponder their "little tiff". _What the hell just happened?_ One minute Sam was furious with himself and his father for their neglect of Dean, and now he was simply irritated with his brother and ready to ignore his pain. He was amazed at how quickly Dean had composed himself and slipped on his mask of nonchalance. Dean let his eyelids droop and began humming along with the music. He sank back into the calming darkness the melody provided, sighing as it caressed his mind and soul. _This is where I can be free_.

Sam watched in sorrow as his brother shut down, effectively ending his bid for Sam's attention and understanding. The bricks of his mental walls were too high and too heavy for Sam to push through. _Maybe I only thought that I saw him cry. Just my imagination, wanting him to hurt and need me._ As he continued his now silent vigil, Sam could not ignore the fact that he had witnessed his brother's tears and he could see with his own eyes how much his physical health was deteriorating. But his brother laid before him, humming softly, the perfect picture of relaxation. He decided not to say anything to their father, but he was determined to keep a wary eye on his brother.

Dean seem to realize that Sam hadn't moved, and that meant he was still thinking, which was dangerous for Dean. One of his hands shot out and pushed Sam from the bed. A small smile graced his lips at Sam's angry spluttering from the floor, but Dean couldn't decide if he was relieved that Sam had not been able to interpret his tears as vulnerability or if it broke him further. The words from the song echoed in his numb mind. _**/Never free/Never me/So I dub thee unforgiven/**_

**TBC? Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclamer: I don't own Supernatural, I just seriously enjoy torturing the boys! Sorry for the delay, this story has taken on a life of its own! Enjoy!

Several weeks had passed since Sam witnessed Dean's brief moment of weakness. At first, Sam had struggled with what he'd seen, not sure if his ever sarcastic and joking brother had tried to tell him something or not. With each passing day, he decided that he must have imagined the whole thing. Still, Sam watched his brother and attempted to keep arguments with his father to a minimum.

Dean, on the other hand, fought to keep his mask firmly in place, quite aware of Sam's watchful gaze. He made sure to eat while his younger brother stared, pushing the food around to give the illusion of a healthy appetite. He joked whenever he could and gave stupid answers that either made his family laugh or become irritated. _Nothing matters but keeping Sam out._ Dean found himself wondering why he bothered to display his emotions to Sam that night when he was now horrified at the thought of him knowing what lay beneath. He desperately wanted to talk with Bobby; the older hunter was the only one who had seen straight through his masks to the sensitive being under all the bravado.

John watched his two sons in quiet contemplation, wondering what was going on between them. Dean had become more withdrawn while Sam scrutinized everything his brother did. The eldest Winchester decided that he couldn't afford to be distracted by his sons' games and left them to their own devices.

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Everything came to an abrupt stop one night after a hunt. It was well past three in the morning when the Winchesters and Bobby had completed their tasks and met back up at the cars. "Let's just head back to my house, get some grub and some beers," Bobby suggested to his companions. Sam nodded his weary head and Dean just began to move towards the passenger side of the older hunter's car. Bobby and Sam had both noticed that when they worked together, Dean tended to go with Bobby, something he had rarely done in the past. John continued to remain oblivious to his sons' tense behavior and snorted at his friend. "It's too damn late to worry about food tonight, Bobby. I say we head for a motel and crash."

Bobby and Sam exchanged looks. "Dad, I really think we should drive the extra ten minutes to Bobby's. We can clean up, eat, and get some rest," Sam pointed out. John whipped back around. "I said we're going to a motel, Sam. I didn't ask for your backtalk," he retorted. Dean sighed but did not move from his spot leaning up against the side of Bobby's car. He was tired and hurt_. I knew them not fighting was too good to be true. They'll never change. _

The older hunter kept looking between his friends. He knew that Sam and John's constant arguing was wearing Dean down; he hated how the middle Winchester was treated like an idiot without a thought of his own. Bobby knew better, and it saddened him to realize that the other two men had never bothered to look deeper than the surface. Dean Winchester was more than a pretty face, of that Bobby was sure. He was jerked back to reality as John and Sam's angry voices grew louder.

"Dammit, Sam! You will learn to listen to me! When I tell you to get in the damn car, get in the damn car!" John shouted. "Piss off_, John_! You aren't the boss of us! You don't even know anything about your own damn kids!" Sam yelled back. John slammed a bag of equipment and an extra gun into Sam's chest. "Stow the damn gear and get in the damn car! Dean, what the fuck are you waiting for; let's go!" their father barked.

Bobby cringed when Sam flung the bags and weapons back at his father. "No! Stop trying to make us your soldiers! Even Dean is tired of your shit!" Sam bellowed. Dean looked like he wanted to sink into the ground, keeping his pale face turned down and his tired eyes hidden behind lowered lashes. Bobby decided that he should intervene when the two hunters began a vicious game of tug-of-war with a sawed off shotgun.

Out of the corner of his eye, the older hunter saw Dean straighten and move to separate his father and brother. "Guys, please stop fighting," he began quietly, completely exhausted. Sam and John continued to tussle over the gun, with John finally ripping the gun from his youngest son's grasp. He swung the gun away from Sam, startled when his index finger tapped the sensitive trigger, a loud shot ringing into the night. Both men were immediately silenced for a second, and then a furious argument broke out again. "Dammit, Sam, are you trying to fucking kill me?" John snarled.

Before Sam could defend himself, Bobby interrupted. "If you two fuckers would pay attention to anything besides yourselves, you'd notice you are _**not**_the center of the fucking universe!" the grizzled voice roared from the ground. Sam tore his eyes from his father and almost screamed when he looked to Bobby. He knelt on the ground behind them, cradling a limp Dean to his chest. The younger hunter's lips parted as he gasped for breath, a bloody tear visible in his throat. "Dean!" Sam cried out, dropping next to his wounded brother. "Oh fuck," John whispered, mouth gaping open_. I shot my own son!_

_TBC... Review please! :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters, but I do love to mess with the boys for fun!

**Author's** Note: Hey y'all! Soooo sorry for the lapse in updates, got a promotion at work and it's taken some time to adjust. But, it did give me plenty of angst to write from! Not really sure where this came from, it was not planned! Hope y'all enjoy the twists and turns along the way! Please drop a review to motivate me! Hugs! :)

Tears burned down Sam's cheeks. He clutched his brother's limp right hand in between his two clammy ones. Light blurred from the windows, and several sounds mingled together in his addled brain; the beep of the heart monitor, the mechanical whir of machines, his own sniffles and sobs. A hand dropped on his shoulder, startling him out of his stupor.

Sam turned quickly to find himself looking up into Bobby's tired, tearful blue eyes. A look passed between the two, no words needed for them to comfort one another. The mere fact that Dean was still clinging to life was more than enough hope for them that he would recover. Guilt continued to consume the youngest Winchester. Bobby's fingers dug into his shoulder. "Sam, you can't sit here and blame yourself, son. Dean needs you to be strong," he spoke softly. Sam nodded, trying to stifle his sobs. "It is my fault though. If I could stop arguing with Dad, if either of us ever paid any attention to Dean…" The young man choked, tears continuing to pour down his face.

Bobby shook his head at Sam's stubbornness and rubbed soothing circles into the boy's back. John had been standing in the doorway for several minutes, watching the exchange between his youngest son and his friend. He was tired and wary, completely frustrated with himself for allowing this situation to happen in the first place. He and Sam had been arguing nonstop and Dean had been withdrawing further into himself as the weeks passed. Sam had mentioned concern for his brother at some point, but John had blown him off and Sam had never brought the subject up again. The hunter sighed and cleared his throat, alerting the others to his presence.

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Bobby had excused himself when John entered the room. He knew the other hunter had been watching him comfort Sam and Bobby had wanted to throttle them both_. I'm thinking that way too often_. He was beyond frustrated with both of the Winchesters; they only thought about themselves and were so wrapped up in their struggles for independence that they ignored Dean, the one who fought to keep their broken family together.

Bobby often wondered if he was too hard on John and Sam based on the fact that he was simply closer to Dean. He had been taken in by the large green eyes of the silent 4 year old when he had met John and baby Sammy. Over the years, Bobby had developed a tight relationship with the middle Winchester, knowing the boy deeper and more intense than either his brother or father seemed to. He knew the boy had dreams and plans, that he was smarter than his family gave him credit for, that he had sacrificed himself over and over for their sakes. It infuriated the older hunter when they treated Dean as a lesser person and Dean just played along, no one but Bobby seeing the torture in the emerald eyes. _To hell with it, I need a drink._

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A mousy little nurse approached Bobby as he sat by a large window picking at a sandwich and his whiskey-laced coffee. "Excuse me, sir?" her hesitant voice interrupted his silent musings. He looked up to her, waiting for her to say whatever was so important that she had to pester him in the cafeteria. His first thought was that something had happened to Dean, but the flutter in his stomach told him it was probably more about John and Sam.

"Sir, the two gentlemen with you are causing a disturbance and they won't settle down," she murmured, wide brown eyes begging the older hunter for help. He sighed heavily and rose from his chair. "I'll take care of them, don't you worry," he assured her as he tossed his sandwich and coffee. He squared his shoulders and headed towards the elevator.

His muscles were tight and a headache pounded behind his eyes. He debated how he could handle the situation as the elevator hummed and the mousy nurse fidgeted beside him. Before the metal doors even parted, the occupants could hear two deep voices bellowing at each other. "Jesus Christ," Bobby snarled, deciding that he would shut the two morons up however he felt was acceptable, hospital policy be damned.

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A doctor and two nurses were attempting to separate Sam and John. The two men had been silent after the older hunter disappeared to the cafeteria, only sending black glares towards each other. Then Sam had made a snide comment to his father along the lines of, "what kind of father shoots their own kid", to which John angrily replied that maybe if Sam cared about his brother he would simply learn to follow orders.

Sam had jumped from his chair, sending the blue plastic crashing to the ground, and whirled on his father. John snorted at Sam's "intimidation tactic" and stood up to take away the younger's height advantage. The nurses had endeavored to calm the men before all hell could break lose; however, they had been unsuccessful. Mousy little Karen had been sent to get Bobby when fists began to fly along with screamed insults.

Dr. Frankell had come shortly after to see what was triggering his patient's heart rate to increase. Dean had been sedated after surgery to let his body work to heal itself and not fight against the ventilator. The gunshot wound had actually done more flesh damage, but the young man had been struggling to draw breath and the doctor had worried about infection setting in. He walked into a room filled with chaos that had nothing to do with his patient other than two men blaming each other for his condition.

The doctor found himself pushing the two seething men apart in an attempt to calm them. "Look at that, Sam, now you're being rescued by a little old man!" John shouted over Dr. Frankell's head. He was in his late 50's and was only 5'8", but he didn't think that gave the scruffy man any reason to take his anger out on him. "You two need to settle down right this minute. This is a hospital and your behavior will not be tolerated!" he spoke over their snarling.

Sam shoved the doctor out of his way, desperate to have his hands around John's throat. "You don't care about anything! You don't care about Dean or me! As long as you get to be right, the world's great to you!" the younger hunter shouted as he lunged at his father. Neither man seemed to notice Bobby's entrance or the cowering nurse in the doorway. They ignored the increased speed of the beeps coming from the heart monitor, the choked whimpers from Dean, the doctor rushing to soothe his distraught patient.

Bobby slammed a hand into each man's chest and thrust his arms out to force them apart. "You two ignorant jackasses need to shut up before you screw things up worse than you already have," he growled at them. "How can things get any worse, Bobby? He's only happy when he's in control of everything!" Sam groused. "You know what, Sam," John rumbled, "you are absolutely right. The only thing that could make me happy right now is not having any kids!"

Bobby gasped at the hateful words spewing from his friend's mouth while Sam stood there seething. "Nothing would make me happier than to never be part of this family again!" he snapped back. Bobby's head swiveled to face Sam, absolute horror on his face. "Shut your mouths, you fools! You have no idea what you're saying right now!" he cried, eyes going straight to hazy green ones overflowing with tears.

"No, Bobby, I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm _done_," John stated in a voice calm and steady for the first time that night. "John, you don't mean that," he whispered. The hunter snorted. "Yeah, I do. I have one kid that's dumber than a box of rocks and his only redeeming quality is that he knows how to listen. The other kid has a brain but can't listen worth shit. I'm tired of being tied down, do whatever the hell you want with them." With that said, John turned on his heal and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Sam stood against the wall Bobby had pushed him to earlier, breathing heavy. Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he stared at the closed door. "Selfish bastard," he murmured, scrubbing at his face. Bobby felt sick, wishing that he would wake up and this whole night had been a bad dream. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Opening his eyes, he was disappointed that he was still in a hospital room that reeked of distress and heartache.

He looked from Sam to Dean, whose glazed eyes were unfocused, but at least he had stopped fighting against the tubes and wires and gone limp. The doctor was attempting to sedate him again, anything to protect the young man from the disaster that had occurred mere steps from his bedside. Bobby thought the worst was over, but was proven wrong once again when Sam stumbled over to his brother's side and choked out, "Dean, why didn't you try to stop him?"

The youngest Winchester turned and fled the room, refusing to look at anyone as he too slammed the door. Dean made a strangled noise in his throat, eyes seeking out Bobby. The older hunter rushed to his boy's side, collapsing on the edge of the bed and drawing Dean into his arms as much as the tubes and wires would allow. He stroked his fingers through the boy's blonde hair, smoothed a rough hand over a sticky wet cheek, dropped kisses on a feverish forehead. "It's gonna be alright, sweet pea. Please believe that I won't leave you, I love you, boy, don't you dare give up on me," he soothed. Dean clung to Bobby, giving in to his sorrow and the sedatives calling him into darkness.

**TBC...**

**Love it? Hate it? Review and let me know please! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Alrighty, then, here be the final chapter! Please don't kill me! Dodges flying objects…I decided to try something a little different, telling the ending from John, Sam, Bobby, and Dean's POV. Rufus also makes a little appearance and he is more than happy to share his thoughts! This is all told without the use of dialogue. Let me know what you think! Hugs! Double hugs to those who have written such lovely reviews, I'm sorry for not responding to everyone over the last chapter, real life has totally sucked!**

_**Thoughts=italics**_

**Disclaimer: Yep, I still don't own them, just playing with them for my own sick and twisted sense of enjoyment! **

_**Four days of anger, resentment, and grief**_. John had stormed to a motel nearby the hospital after his last fight with Sam. He'd snarled at the pimpled teenager behind the desk, stomped to his room, and proceeded to tear it apart. _How dare that little shit speak to me like that?_ He had smashed every piece of glass he could get his hands on. He'd finished off the first bottle of Jack that he kept for "emergencies" in his truck and smashed that, too. He was glad he'd left the boys at the hospital. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to destroy everything in sight without Sam's puppy dog eyes or Dean trying to _make it all better_.

He couldn't stop thinking about how different his life would have been without his sons. He could have hunted freely, done what he needed when he needed. He realized in that moment that he kept them with him out of a sense of obligation. Every time he looked at Dean, he had been reminded of Mary. Their oldest son looked and acted nothing like John, he was Mary's son through and through. Then there was Sam, who was definitely John's son from his dark looks to his determined and stubborn behavior_._

_And now I'm free_. Sam had given him the out he'd been looking for. They were both adults, and Bobby would keep an eye on them, _so why not? Why not take care of my needs for once in twenty-some years?_ John continued to trash the room, enjoying the rips of material, crunch of glass under his boots, and the splintering of wood snapping under his wrath. He let loose a bark of hysterical laughter, and for the first time in years, felt freedom and loved every second of it.

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_**Five days of anger, jealousy, and hatred**_. Sam had followed John out the door after an unfair attack on Dean_. But that's how it always is, isn't it? Poor Dean, boo hoo_. Sam knew that he was upset with his father and taking it out on his brother. _That's not completely true either, is it?_ He wanted to just be angry. Angry with John for being a bastard that put his own children's lives in danger, and angry with Dean for not standing up for himself_. If he wants to spend his life being taken advantage of, then he can go for it._

He had followed his father down the road to the cheap no-tell motel, watched him storm into his room and proceed to trash it. Sam felt his own anger boil up and threaten to spill. He wished he could snatch the bottle of Jack Daniels from his father, drain the rest of the amber liquor, and smash the bottle into his face. _Wow, getting a little dark side there, Sammy-boy_. He snorted to himself. He watched his father destroy the entire room before going to the office and harassing the zit-faced punk for a room.

He wanted a fight. After dumping his bag on the single bed in the tiny room, Sam headed straight for the Impala. He wanted that fight, and he intended to get it. He headed for a bar on the outskirts of town, where he planned to get nice and drunk before starting a pissing contest with any one bigger than him_. Finally, I can do what I want, without Dad telling me what to do and Dean acting like everything is "peachy"._ Freedom had never tasted so good as he pummeled some redneck into the pavement.

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_**Six days of sadness, anxiety, and fear**_. Bobby thought he would choke from the thickness of the sorrow surrounding the patient in that hospital room. Dean had mercifully been kept sedated for the first three days after Sam and John's explosion, but the doctor had come to the conclusion that "it's time for him to start dealing" and eased up on the medication. Dean started to stay awake for longer periods of time, and Bobby wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel when he saw the realization come to those hazy green eyes. That John and Sam had both really left him.

As the middle Winchester began to put the cloudy puzzle together, Bobby wasn't sure whether to hate the other two for putting him in this position, or to hate Dean for looking at him with such need in his eyes. The older hunter shook that thought from his head. _This isn't Dean's fault, other than he should have told them both off a long time ago_. He wanted nothing more than to comfort the boy, to tell him that he was loved, even if not by the two people he craved it from the most.

He spent most of his time talking to a silent young man, who only made a sound when he gave in to the pain and sobbed in Bobby's arms. The doctor was worried; he had whispered to Bobby that Dean was a "liability" and that he wanted the young man to see the hospital psychiatrist. He shrugged and gave permission_. Dean won't talk to a shrink if he won't even talk to me, but knock yourself out._ His heart warred with his mind; his heart was smug that his boy wouldn't talk to anyone other than himself, while his brain prayed that he would talk to someone rather than suffer in silence. It was then that Bobby had an idea and went out to call Rufus to help put his plan into motion.

When Bobby returned to the room with a tiny smile gracing his face, it quickly fell at the sight that greeted him. Dean was curled on his side with his back to the door, thin shoulders shaking. His poor boy was upset again, and it was something Bobby was tiring of. It took all of his willpower to push thoughts of hunting John and Sam Winchester down like animals from his mind_. That'll only hurt him more_. Besides, Rufus would be there shortly with his surprise_. I'll show him that I love him_. He went to the bed, grateful that all the tubes and wires, including the ventilator, were gone. He soothed his weathered hands down warm and sticky cheeks, telling both himself and Dean that things were about to get better. He felt a thrill of pride when he was rewarded with green eyes that sparked with curiosity. He hadn't seen that look in months, and he was pleased that he could bring that flicker back. He made plans about where they would go when Dean was release later that day. Bobby couldn't believe that they had been there for six days, with today being the seventh. Dean just lay curled up against him, grateful Bobby was there with him.

The hours bled into one another, and their peaceful silence was interrupted by Rufus bursting in. He had been irritated when Bobby had called and insisted the other hunter come to them in the hospital, but now Rufus was glad he had. His dark eyes linger over Dean, taking in how thin and pale the boy was, suddenly angry as hell with John and Sam. He was itchy to tell Bobby what he'd heard had befallen the two jackasses, but it could wait until later. He snorted to himself, remembering how his contact had snickered when telling him that both John and Sam had been arrested; Sam for assault and John for destruction of property. _Serves the bastards right, and they ditched the only person who would bail them out_.

He gladly handed over the bag of clothes he was carrying, which Dean took hesitantly and slipped into the bathroom to change. While the boy was dressing, Rufus handed over the surprise. Bobby's face lit up with excitement and nervousness. He didn't want to upset Dean. _God, let this mean as much to him as it does me._ Dean stepped back into the room, the clothes hanging loosely; seemingly shy as he watched the other two men in silence.

He felt like he was four years old again, desperately wanting attention and comfort that Bobby was so willing to give to him. Both men had stopped talking when he re-entered the room, and he watched them with inquisitive eyes. Bobby held out the surprise for him to take, and Dean slowly moved to them, his hands trembling as he reached out to take the proffered gift. He looked down to see a driver's license, displaying the name of Dean Singer. He looked from Bobby's watery smile, to Rufus's encouraging nod, and back to Bobby. He fell into the man's arms, sobbing and begging him to stay. _Please, God, please let him love me_.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

_**One day of hope, courage, and anticipation**_. Dean walked out of the hospital wearing new clothes, with a new family, and a new outlook on his life. So many thoughts were racing through his mind, old hopes and dreams igniting. Bobby walked with one arm around his waist, clucking about medications and rest, and healing. Rufus walked on the other side of him, teasing him about how much Bobby was going to mother him. A small smile graced his lips for the first time in months. He didn't feel heavy or like a burden. He felt warm and cared for, and in that moment, he realized three things. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to be loved. He wanted to be Dean Singer, from this day forward.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own a thing.

**Author's Note**: Okay, I'm really super-duper sorry that I didn't post this when I finished it, like over a year ago. Thanks to those that drew my attention to my mistake. Hope you all enjoy the final chapter! Hugs!

It had been three months since Dean had been released from the hospital and into Bobby's care. The weather was turning colder and Bobby kept waiting for John and Sam to show up. Both he and Rufus quietly kept tabs on the Winchesters; they hoped to keep Dean from any more harm at the hands of his thoughtless family. The young man had happily withdrawn from hunting actively, although he helped frequently with research and worked out in the salvage yard and garage. Bobby was grateful that the nightmares had lessened, but he knew the anxiety and depression continued to plague Dean.

The older hunter had recently boasted to Rufus that _his_ son was doing better; that he kept taking all of his meds, that he kept a daily journal like his therapist had suggested, and had finally agreed to try a few online college courses. He was damn proud of the boy's progress, with the exception of his silence. He had yet to speak, only crying out during feverish nightmares. Still, silence aside, Dean was doing well.

It was with these thoughts in mind that everything seemed to shatter for the older man. An unmistakable rumble cut through the quiet evening air; the sound of a Chevy Impala barreling down the drive. Snapping up a shotgun, Bobby took off at a jog towards the front porch, hoping to keep John out of his home. Dean hadn't been feeling well earlier and had fallen asleep on the couch, and the hunter hoped that he stayed that way.

The driver's door screeched open and, to Bobby's surprised, out stepped Sam. "Hey, Bobby," he greeted softly. "Sam," he replied, "What're you doing here?" The young man looked to the ground, scuffing the toe of his boot in the dirt. He looked back up. "I finally got up the nerve to come and see Dean. To tell him I'm sorry." Bobby just glared and Sam sighed. "Bobby, I really just want to talk to him. I'm not here to ask him to leave with me, or even to forgive me for being so damn selfish. I just want to say I'm sorry".

The older man was a sucker for Sam's sad puppy eyes. He released his own sigh and lowered the gun. "Alright, Sam. But if you upset him in any way, I will not hesitate to throw you out on your ass," he warned. A blinding smile split Sam's face and he slammed into Bobby with a crushing hug. "I've missed you, too, Bobby," he mumbled into the man's flannel-clad shoulder. He snorted and the two men headed into the house.

SPN* SPN* SPN* SPN*

Sam headed for the living room while Bobby went into the kitchen to grab a few beers. The young man was startled at how much Bobby's place had changed since his last visit; the books of lore were all on dust-free shelves, the furniture was clean and neat, and curtains were open with sparkling clean windows. "Did you have any clue that your brother is a neat freak?" the old man's voice brought Sam from his musing. "Not even a hint," he replied. "Me either. Look what he's done to the place. And he can cook. It freaks me out a little," Bobby said in a whisper.

He would never want to hurt Dean's feelings, but it wasn't something he was used to, and had never thought the kid would be so anal about keeping things clean and organized. He'd always assumed that was more of Sam's kind of thing, but judging by the look on the young hunter's face; he was just as surprised by his brother's behavior.

They continued into the living room were Dean lay curled on his side on the couch, a large orange cat sprawled next to him. Sam raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you have a cat?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake his brother. Bobby snorted. "Since your brother drug the damn thing in here and looked at me with those sad eyes."

Sam couldn't help the chuckle that escaped; he knew the look Dean used when he wanted something, especially when it concerned animals. Their father had always been immune to Dean's wide green eyes, full of sadness and longing, but Bobby had never been able to say no to the look. Sam found it all highly amusing.

However, he did not find the large German shepherd coming around the corner of the couch growling nearly as amusing as the cat. "Holy shit," he breathed. "Yeah. Sam, meet Duchess. She's made it her mission to protect Dean, so I'd move mighty slow around her if I was you." Sam nodded and swallowed thickly. The dog was huge. She sat next to Dean and snarled, giving Sam a lovely view of her sharp, vicious teeth. He had no desire to tangle with the monstrosity so he began to back up, hands in a placating gesture. Bobby snickered. Duchess turned her attention to her master when he began to stir.

Dean slowly opened his eyes when he heard Duchess begin to growl. She only did that when strangers were at the house and entirely too close to him, at least in her opinion. He reached out and ran a soothing hand down her back, turning over to see what had her in a tizzy.

He blinked at the sight of Sam in the doorway, and then bolted upright, dislodging the cat from his cozy slumber. Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh at the pissed off cat bitching at his brother, cry at the stunned and frightened look in his brother's eyes, or run from the dog that was back to snarling. Bobby made the decision for him by moving into the room, speaking to the wary animal, "Duchess, this is Sam. He's okay." He made a down motion with his hand, and the dog obediently lay down, never taking her dark eyes from Sam. She'd allow the new person in, for now.

Sam nodded his thanks to the older man before stepping towards the couch. "Dean," he spoke softly, "God, it's so good to see you, big brother." Dean made no move, just stared at Sam with huge eyes, clutching the cat that had crawled into his lap. The younger brother decided to see if he could make it to the couch unharmed and released a whoosh of air when he sat on the cushions by his brother's feet without any incident.

"Dean," he began again, hating the way his brother looked at him, like he was waiting for Sam to hit him. "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry. I was so angry with Dad, and I'm so used to you stepping in that I expected you to do just that even when you couldn't. I was upset and embarrassed at acting like that so I ran away. I got drunk and beat up a guy bigger than me, and then I ended up in jail and all I could think about was how badly I must have hurt you," he rambled on. "I'm so sorry, big brother. I always have taken advantage of you, me and Dad both have, and the one time you needed us, we were too busy thinking about ourselves. I'm so sorry, and I hope you can forgive me one day."

Dean didn't move. Sam sighed and turned away, not wanting anyone to see the tears in his eyes. He knew that he'd done his brother wrong, but hadn't been able to suck it up and be there for his brother. He'd run, just like he always did.

Sam started to stand from the couch when a hand touched his arm. He turned to see Dean had moved a little closer and was reaching towards him. He patted the young man's shoulder gently, a small smile on his lips. Sam gave in to his urges and launched himself at his brother, crushing him in a bear hug. Dean just patted his back, looking to Bobby for help.

The older man laughed. "Idiots," he snarked. Sam looked up. "Since when do you call us idiots?" he asked, sniffling. "Since Dean got pissed at me for calling that stupid cat an idiot. I called him an idjit and that seemed acceptable, so that's the damn thing's name." Sam smiled at Bobby's attempt at being gruff, but heard the underlying fondness for the feline.

"Idjit, huh," he pet the cat. The impressive animal stretched up, resting a paw on Sam's shoulder, and growled in the man's face. Bobby roared. "You just got told off by a damn idjit cat!" he howled. Sam looked over to Dean, who had a smile on his face. "Dean, just what the hell have you been doing these past few months?"

SPN* SPN* SPN* SPN*

Bobby had made a hearty dinner of steak and potatoes for himself and Sam; Dean seemed content with his bowl of broth and vegetables. Sam watched his brother from the corner of his eye. He was sad to see that eye contact was minimal and that he had not spoken. The youngest Winchester couldn't help from staring at the scar that graced his brother's pale throat. _All because me and Dad were only thinking about ourselves_.

Duchess lay on the rug in front of the sink, keen eyes trained on the stranger in her home. Idjit sat next to Dean's bare feet, large amber eyes flicking between his master and the newcomer. Bobby ate his dinner, throwing out comments here and there; asking Sam about what he'd been up to, the presence of neither the animals nor Dean's silence seeming to bother him.

After the dishes were washed and put away, Bobby turned to Dean. "Son, you feel up to taking Duchess for her walk or would you rather head to bed and I'll take her?" Dean seemed to ponder the question for a moment before making a motion towards the stairs. The older hunter nodded. "Go on and get cleaned up and I'll be up to check on you in a bit." Dean nodded slightly, eyes locked with Bobby's; he turned and slowly moved for the stairs, the orange cat racing up in front of him.

Sam just stared after his brother with his mouth hanging open. "What just happened?" he asked. "_That_, Sam, is your brother finally learning that it's okay to not feel well, that he doesn't have to do everything for everyone and that he can ask for and accept help from others." "You got all of that from one look?" Bobby snorted. "No, I'm the one who's been with him since you and your daddy walked out. I'm the one who put him back together and I've learned what his looks and body language mean."

The older man felt a little bad at the flinch Sam gave at the mention of his abandonment, but that was exactly what had happened. Bobby liked Sam and he and John Winchester had been extremely close once upon a time, but he had been the one to piece Dean back together and he resented even Sam trying to come back into the younger man's life.

He took a deep, calming breath. "Why don't you come with me and Duchess while Dean gets ready for bed? Idjit will make sure he's alright." Sam finally tore his eyes from the stairway and nodded at Bobby. He moved towards the back door, and then stopped. "What do you mean, the cat will watch out for him?" he asked slowly.

Bobby chuckled. "Right after Dean drug that mangy feline in here, he was up in the bathroom and got dizzy. He fell and hit his head on the tub; knocked himself out. Next thing I know, that damn cat is in the garage screaming at me until I came in and found Dean." Sam just stared at his friend. "I know, it sounds crazy, but it's happened too many times for me to ignore it. I'm surprised you're having a hard time believing that an animal can take care of the person he dubbed as "master" and that cat certainly adores Dean."

SPN* SPN* SPN* SPN*

Bobby and Sam had been walking for nearly half an hour in silence, Duchess strolling in front of them. She continued to keep her dark eyes on Sam, and he was creeped out by the animal. Finally, he broke the quiet. "What's going on, Bobby?" he asked. The old hunter sighed. "Look, Sam, I'll be honest and tell you that I been dreading the day you and your daddy showed up here. I want Dean to stay here, have a chance at the future that he gave up for you two."

Sam just stared at him, confused. "We never forced him to stay; he's the one who wanted me to stay". "No, son, he wanted whatever was best for you. And that meant sacrificing his own dreams to make sure you got yours. He would never tell you that, though. Wouldn't want to burden you." Sam didn't know what to make of that.

They continued walking, each in their own thoughts. "So what is Dean studying?" he asked, upset that he may have hurt his brother more than he realized. "He's taking a math class geared for engineers, and a lit class. It's funny to watch him read and do homework; reminds me of you," Bobby chuckled.

After a pause, Sam asked, "Do you think that's what he really wants? To go to school? Have a job and a house? Stay here?" Bobby shrugged. "I dunno, Sam. You'll have to ask him that yourself. No matter what, this is really Dean's choice, but I want you to promise me that you'll let him make the decision without making him feel bad. It's nice to see him doing things for himself."

The brunette nodded. "I want that for him, too. I want him to be happy, and he certainly seems like he is here. With you and Duchess and that cat." Bobby laughed loudly. "See what I mean? That cat is a total idjit!" He called for Duchess and they turned back towards the house.

SPN* SPN* SPN* SPN*

Dean had showered and taken his medication before heading off to his room. Bobby had given him the spare room the boys had shared as kids. The room now held a queen-sized bed, dresser, and a desk with his own computer. A little book shelf held all his books for school, and the ones he just liked to read. Bobby got him a new book every time the man went into town and his collection was growing.

He had often thought of Sam; he missed his younger brother greatly. _I wish he would just stay here and we could be normal together_. He knew Bobby would come to check on him, worrying about his cold, so he wrote a quick note for Sam and left it on the bedside table.

The cat jumped on his bed and flopped down next to him. Dean smiled, enjoying this life Bobby had offered and helped him to achieve. He turned to his side, snuggling with the big cat, for once feeling complete now that Sam was here.

SPN* SPN* SPN* SPN*

Bobby immediately headed for the stairs upon entering the house. "Be right back with your snack, Duchess," he called to the dog. She sat on the rug in front of the sink and stared at the youngest Winchester. After a moment's hesitation, he took the steps two at a time after Bobby. He realized he had yet to see Dean's room or figure out a place to sleep.

The door to the room the brother's had shared growing up was open and soft light spilled across the hall floor. Sam peaked around the door to see Dean on his side with the huge cat curled with him. The cat's large amber eyes were on Bobby and he chattered softly while the old man patted his head. Dean's eyes were closed and Bobby quickly checked for fever, and then took something from underneath the cat.

Sam was surprised when he held up a piece of paper with Sam's name on it. "Damn cat," Bobby muttered, "always stealing things that belong to someone else". Sam laughed when the cat grumbled and turned over to hide his face against his human. Bobby handed over the message and left Sam in the room alone with a pat to the boy's shoulder.

Sam opened the note addressed to him: _Hey Sammy, I'm really glad you came. I've missed you. But I don't miss hunting or all the arguing. Please don't ask me to leave with you because my home is here with Bobby. He's teaching me that it's okay to be selfish and that's what I want. To be selfish. I would be happy if you stayed here with us. Go back to school, be normal. Safe. You can sleep in here if you want because this is still your room, too. I hope you understand and know that I want you to do what's best for you. De_

Sam felt tears prick at the back of his eyes. His brother was happy. And he wanted Sam to be with him. He wasted no time and hurried to kick off his jeans and crawled under the covers with his brother. Dean seemed to sense Sam's presence as he automatically rolled over towards his brother once Sam had settled.

The cat grumbled some more but crept around Dean to lie between him and Sam. Idjit bumped his nose against Sam's and then lay down to sleep. Sam finally let his tears fall and knew that his choice had been made. He wouldn't be leaving the salvage yard anytime soon.

SPN* SPN* SPN* SPN*

Sam stumbled down the stairs with Idjit at his heels. Bobby sat at the kitchen table with a fresh pot of coffee and Dean was wrapped in a blanket on the couch. "What's he doing down here?" he asked the older man. "He got up for a drink and something to eat, then lay back down. He didn't want to bother you. He seemed nervous about something though. Any ideas?"

Sam poured himself some coffee and sat quietly for a minute. "Maybe. He wrote in that note he left me that he isn't leaving here," he began. Bobby nodded, not sure where this was going, but glad Dean wasn't leaving his new life.

Sam took a long pull off his coffee. "He, uh, he asked me to stay. Here. What do you think?" he asked shakily. Bobby cocked an eyebrow. "Well, sounds like he's asking you to stay here and have your normal life. With him and me. So, the question is, what do _you_ think?"

Minutes passed as the two men stared into each other's eyes. "I want to stay. With you both." "You sure, Sam? You can't change your mind halfway through this; you'll kill him," Bobby challenged. Sam shook his head forcefully. "Not gonna change my mind. Dean gave everything for me. I want to give back. I need my brother and I want to see him take care of himself. See his dreams." Bobby grinned. "Good choice, boy. Now, you gotta decide one more thing… What's your last name gonna be? You'll need some new papers for your new life."

SPN* SPN* SPN* SPN*

Dean slept through the morning on the couch. He woke to find himself alone; although one look around showed him that Duchess was again laying on the floor next to him. He heard the backdoor close and a quiet conversation happening in the kitchen. _Sam's still here_. He pulled himself up and headed towards the voices.

Bobby greeted him with a smile. "Hey, son, how ya feeling?" Sam's smile practically blinded him. "Dean! Look!" he crowed, shoving papers in his brother's face. Dean dropped into a chair and struggled to focus on the papers the young man had thrust at him.

He finally noticed that the papers he held were for a Sam Singer. _Sam Singer_. He jerked his head up, green eyes locking on his brother's hazel. "Yep, that's the big news! I'm staying with you, brother. You and Bobby and all these crazy animals."

Dean was out of his seat and threw his arms around his brother's neck in a tight hug. Sam hugged him back tightly. When they separated, Sam grinned down at his brother. "Uh, Dean, can you please ask your dog not to keep looking at me like I'm a walking steak now?" Duchess let out a bark and bumped against Sam's legs. Bobby and Dean just laughed, Sam joining in with them. _To a new life_ was Sam's content thought.

**BTW, there really is a big ole orange cat with amber eyes, and his name really is Idjit **


End file.
